Neighborly Concern
by Imogene the Dancing Cow
Summary: Is the name Samantha somehow synonymous with busybody neighbors? It’s certainly the case for one Samantha Carter.
1. Chapter 1

**Neighborly Concern**

Summary: Is the name Samantha somehow synonymous with busybody neighbors? It's certainly the case for one Samantha Carter.

Spoilers: _Ascension_, just barely

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

AN: My first real fic, ladies and gentlemen! This was quite obviously inspired by _Bewitched_, and you might just find a reference to _The Sound of Music_. I'm thinking this might be the start of a continuing story filled with wacky hijinks.

* * *

Gladys was in the den reading when she heard it. She raced to the window, peaked through the blinds, and glanced across the street to see an old silver car settle beside the curb. A tall, lanky blonde figure climbed out, and Gladys practically jumped with joy when she saw the woman walk to the trunk. Maybe there was a body stuffed in there. She wouldn't put it past Samantha Carter.

She had always known something was off about that girl. She didn't have a husband, and Gladys was pretty sure she couldn't cook. Many times she had seen the thrown out remains of something that must have started as edible but ended up charred beyond recognition (and no, she had _not_ been snooping through her neighbor's garbage, she was just concerned for the girl's well-being). It was no wonder she was so skinny; she probably never ate a decent meal. Gladys reminded herself to bring the will-o'-the wisp a pan of her world famous tuna casserole.

Samantha also worked not one, but two typically male jobs at that mountain. She was a military officer and some kind of scientist, a physicist or something (whatever it was, it required a lot of math, and Gladys knew females didn't have much of a head for figures).

She rode around on motorcycles, wore her hair short, and, maybe worst of all, she insisted on being called Sam. It was all completely unladylike, and call her old-fashioned, but Gladys didn't like to see such a sweet girl waste her life away. _Maybe she's one of those homosexuals_. The girl was pretty and smart as a whip to boot, so why else wouldn't she be married?

Gladys then recalled the numerous times she had overheard Samantha baby talking the flowers in her small garden (and despite her husband's claims, she was _not_ eavesdropping, she simply happened to be outside tending her own garden whenever her neighbor was doing the same). _Well, maybe she's just not right in the head_. That would explain the lack of a husband and a lot of her odd behavior.

Samantha was gone for weeks at a time, and when she did come home, it was often limping and covered with scrapes and bruises. Gladys couldn't see the danger in working in a mountain, but somehow Samantha Carter managed to find it. _Perhaps she's been lying about her job. Maybe she's an undercover agent for some secret organization. Is Samantha even her real name?_ She'd have to sniff around for more information. Maybe she could catch her in a lie.

Her suspicion that something was very wrong was confirmed just the other week. When she had seen Samantha with a handsome young man, she assumed that the girl had finally done herself good and gotten a boyfriend. However, when the black vans with tinted windows showed up outside her neighbor's house she quickly corrected that assessment. Samantha and that man must have been in cahoots together. _Maybe she's a drug dealer or a terrorist. Or a counterfeiter_. Whatever it was, normal people didn't have uniformed men with guns showing up at their houses and going through their things.

Now that Gladys thought about it, before those men had shown up she had seen Samantha in her house. She never saw her leave, even after the men left, but several hours later she saw her exhausted looking neighbor unlocking her front door (and Gladys had most certainly _not_ been staked out on the porch all night following that fiasco, she just had a bad case of insomnia and was in the mood for a little stargazing). Gladys suddenly had an odd idea. _Maybe she's a witch! _No, no. It would certainly explain the disappearing act, but it was awfully outlandish. _You silly, old bitty._

She was shaken out of her reminiscing by the sound of a trunk slamming shut, and she couldn't repress a giddy squawk. However, it transformed into a sigh of disappointment when all she saw was a bag over Samantha's shoulder. _Not nearly big enough to fit a dead body_. The blonde's head bobbed up, and she smiled and gave a little wave. Gladys quickly dropped her hand from the blinds and backed away.

Well, maybe Samantha Carter wasn't a witch, but there was certainly something strange going on with her. Whatever it was, Gladys was determined to find out the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

AN: Have no fear! I haven't completely abandoned this story.

* * *

Gladys straightened her skirt, tightened her hold on her famous tuna casserole (famous for all the right reasons, despite what Harold said), and prepared to knock on the door in front of her. Maybe this time she'd get a good look inside, certainly better than peering through windows could provide (not that she had ever done that).

Samantha always seemed reluctant to invite her inside, though she couldn't fathom why. Gladys had been inside Samantha's house only once before. She and Harold had come by with a housewarming gift when the girl was moving in, but the house was only filled with boxes at the time.

Gladys did get the opportunity to meet those co-workers of Samantha's, though. One was a gray haired colonel, quite tall and very handsome, with a twinkle in his eye. If she were twenty years younger, she would have snatched him up herself (Harold was an oblivious turkey, so he certainly wouldn't notice).

There was also a young man with glasses and some of the prettiest blue eyes she had ever seen, though they were offset by some of the strangest eyebrows she had ever seen. He was a doctor, though she was a little disappointed to hear he wasn't _that_ kind of doctor. However, he was a brilliant academic, an archeologist and a linguist, and Gladys subtly nudged Samantha to grab him before another girl got to him first. He was a keeper, and they would have such pretty blue-eyed babies once Samantha quit that job of hers.

The other man, a Negro, was very large, very silent, and very strange. There was a slight gold sheen to him, and he appeared to be wearing eye shadow, which made Gladys even wearier. Only men of a certain persuasion wore makeup, and she was uncomfortable with that lifestyle choice. And in the military! He also seemed to have a perchance for hats, and she felt it was very rude of him to wear one inside. She wasn't entirely sure what his job was at the mountain, but she thought it might be security. He certainly had the muscles for it.

There was also a brunette woman, and Gladys had sighed with relief when she saw her. After all, it wasn't proper for a young lady to be in the company of three men alone, though she now knew better than to expect any kind of propriety from Samantha Carter. The petite woman was an Air Force doctor, and while Gladys certainly didn't approve of women in the military, at least the medical field was a little more suited to women than physics.

Finally, there was an adorable little girl. Gladys was able to gather that the doctor had adopted the minor, though she didn't understand why a single woman would take in a child. Children needed a mother and a father if they were to grow up right. She saw how the girl had looked at Samantha with the same adoration and hero worship a girl had when looking at her father, and Gladys had been concerned that the women didn't know how uninformed outsiders could interpret their relationship. That conversation hadn't gone over well (and that devil she called a husband just chuckled when she'd told him about it), and she had only succeeded in alienating Samantha.

_Fiddle-dee-dee_! Her mind had wandered off again (Harold would ask what was new, but he was an old ninny). How long had she been standing there? Gladys gathered her senses and as her fist approached the door to give it a tap, it suddenly opened.

"Oh!" Samantha stopped in shocked surprise before she could walk right into Gladys. "Mrs. Haze!"

"Hello, dear," she replied. "I would ask if you've been taking care of yourself, but I think I already know the answer. Have you eaten yet?"

Samantha looked a little embarrassed. "Well, no, I actually just woke up about an hour ago. Long night."

"It's one in the afternoon! What in the world were you doing?" she asked, trying to peer past Samantha and into her house. Of course, Samantha moved into her line of sight within the second. _Drat_!

But it did give Gladys the opportunity to get a good look at her. The poor girl appeared downright exhausted and was looking paler than usual, so she decided to curb her curiosity. For now. "Were you heading out?"

Samantha looked relieved. "Yes!" she said a little too enthusiastically for Gladys' tastes. She appeared properly ashamed of her outburst and quickly gathered herself. "Uh, yes, I was heading to the lab. I have a few projects I want to finish. Did you need anything, Mrs. Haze?"

It was just like Samantha to go to work on a Sunday afternoon. And she hadn't even been to church that morning. "I just wanted to bring you some of my tuna casserole. Did you know that it's won the Colorado State Fair Blue Ribbon Award for Best Flavor?"

"Yes, you've mentioned it once or twice," Samantha said, looking more and more uneasy. Gladys decided she would back off on the questioning (and not interrogation, as Harold would call it). She wasn't cruel.

"You know, it's a good thing I brought this by. You've been looking much too thin lately, and my casserole is just the thing to fatten you up!" She thrust the dish into Samantha's hands with just a touch of pride (and only a touch). "You seem awfully peaky, dear. Maybe you shouldn't go in to work. I'm sure they can do without you for a day."

"Uh, you know, I think maybe you're right, Mrs. Haze. It's been a long week." Samantha stepped backwards grabbing for the door. "Thank you for the meatloaf."

"Casserole."

"Casserole," Samantha said, smiling sheepishly, and Gladys decided not to take offense over her slipup. "Thanks for the casserole." She really was a sweet girl. Neurotic and very odd, but sweet.

"Feel better, sweetie," said Gladys, turning on her heel and walking down the steps as the door closed with another "thank you." She was a little disappointed that she hadn't really found out anything new (or incriminating) about Samantha. Once again, she hadn't even managed to get a good look inside her house.

Certainly, she could have taken advantage of the fact that Samantha was a bit out of sorts, but Gladys wasn't that kind of person. She was a kind, gentle soul. But that didn't mean she lacked determination. She would solve the mystery that was Samantha Carter if it was the last thing she ever did.


End file.
